


Conference Hell

by orbingarrow



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Asexual Bruce Banner, Asexual Character, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, But Still This Manages to be Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, I swear, JARVIS is a good bro, Science Bros, Suicidal Thoughts, Work Conferences are No Fun, mentions of cutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 19:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5978206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbingarrow/pseuds/orbingarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is depressed, alone, and very drunk, but at least the talking ceiling voice has a lot of nice things to say to him.  And Cheetos.  The voice has Cheetos.</p><p>*</p><p>(JARVIS makes for an awesome best bro.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conference Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags, ya'll. This is fluff but there's some angst up top.

Bruce doesn’t know why he’s here. Or, well, he knows why he’s here. He RSVP’d to be here, so that part is actually kind of easy to explain. It’s more that he doesn’t know why he bothered. Tech conferences are all the same. It’s a bunch of evil corporations, presenting evil corporate things, using the most mind-numbingly evil medium ever invented: PowerPoint.

He takes his ink pen across his wrist, first mapping where exactly he’d need to slice to end things quickly with his blue pen, then digs in his bag for a black pen to map out where he’d cut to just... cut.

It scares him a little how often he does this now. Scares him enough that he stops taking notes all together and sits the pens down on his notepad and stares at the lines until loud applause startles him. Rather than settle down quickly, the applause grows much louder a few seconds later and half the crowd ends up on their feet. Someone is announced as the special guest but the whistles muffle the name and seriously _fuck his life_ because that brief pause was his one shot at getting up and walking out without anyone noticing and now he’s stuck in his seat for another hour and fifteen minutes.

When the people ahead of him finally sit down, Bruce is surprised to see it’s Dr. Tony Stark on the stage. He definitely isn’t on the schedule, though that’s where the special guest part comes in. Banner, seriously-- get it together.

Bruce glances back down at the pens. He still has one clean wrist if he gets bored. It turns out he doesn’t.

From his first sentence, Dr. Stark is enthralling. Bruce wants to resist giving one single shit about what the billionaire has to say, considering how he made his money in the first place, but his speech isn’t about that. Or about the new work he’s doing for that matter. It’s about the importance of open-source software and the need for more collaboration in innovation. It’s refreshing, actually, and about 30 minutes in, Bruce has his pen in hand and he’s not mapping out new ways to die; he’s taking notes.

Tony’s got code on the giant screens behind him, and really it looks like it’s there as a backdrop more than anything, but as Tony speaks, Bruce can’t help but stare at it. It’s perfect. Textbook perfect. Actually, better than textbook perfect on a level that makes some textbooks look obsolete. Which is why it’s weird when Bruce spots an error. A number that’s incorrect, inserted in a long string of otherwise perfect code.

It makes him pay more attention to the screens and less and less attention to Dr. Stark. He finds a few more unnecessary characters and starts keeping track of them on his notepad. It isn’t hard to catch them once he knows what he’s looking for and within five minutes he’s got

23:00ROOM1602

A time and a place.

Bruce glances at his watch. It’s a little after 7:30 P.M. and when Dr. Stark stops speaking it’s nearly 8. Which gives Bruce three hours to sit at the bar, drink in a corner, and debate the merits of showing up at a random room at 11 P.M. and seeing how that works out for him. He figures he’ll be one of dozens there. The code was so perfect that the errors stood out like bright red flashing lights against a contrast of black and white. In a room full of the brightest minds in the world, enough people will have figured it out that the crowd will violate the hotel fire codes and Bruce (who’s just a university professor and therefore at the very bottom of the “cool kid” list) will be ushered away quickly.

Still, since he’s had a bottle of liquid courage all to himself, at 10:58 he takes the elevator up to the 16th floor, stumbles down to number 02 and knocks. The security panel turns green and Bruce hears the click of the lock so he lets himself in. The large suite is empty. 

He can’t see a bed anywhere, because he’s walked into the living room area. He’s seen hotel rooms like this in movies, but never in real life.

“Hello?” he calls.

He’s about to step back outside, figuring he’s fucked this up somehow, when a polite British voice greets him.

“Good evening, Dr. Banner. Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll let Dr. Stark know you’re here.”

Bruce freezes and slowly backs toward the doorway. He doesn’t think a bottle of wine should have him hearing voices but this is how insanity starts, right? And it was only a matter of time...

“Ummm... that’s okay? I’ll just go. I shouldn’t have come and I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no bother. Dr. Stark has presented the slides you saw at 7 conferences this year, and you are the first to decode them.”

“Oh. I guess maybe people are more interested at looking at him than his slides?” Bruce asks.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you have an eye for code that others lack. There are drinks in the fridge.”

“No, I’m good,” Bruce says, swaying. “I’ve had too much already.”

“There are snacks as well under the bar. I’ve alerted Dr. Stark to your presence but he is otherwise occupied. If you wait, he may turn up.”

The voice doesn’t sound terribly optimistic about that, but Bruce is well and truly drunk and snacks sound great. And anything sounds better than sitting in his room alone right now.

“Are you watching me through a camera or something?” Bruce asks, giving the room a wave as he walks over to see if there are any chips. “This feels a little kinky.”

“I am, in a way, watching you via camera. I am an AI. My name is JARVIS.”

That gets Bruce’s attention.

“Seriously?” He gives another wave. “That’s incredible. You must blow the Turing Test out of the water.”

“I do,” JARVIS agreed. “I was the first AI to do so, though Dr. Stark didn’t make it public knowledge. It was a personal achievement for us both.”

That makes Bruce smile. He grabs a bag of Cheetos and sits down on one of the couches.

“So how are you here?” Bruce asks. “I assume Dr. Stark doesn’t install you in every hotel he visits.”

“He does not,” JARVIS agrees. “There are five cameras and five speakers hidden around the room. I am still located in New York.”

“That’s an awful lot of trouble for a trick with code that no one shows up for.”

“Ms. Potts uses this room as well,” JARVIS explains. “I am here mostly to assist her and to assess any possible threats to her safety. Also to monitor for any after-hours guests.”

“This was always a dream of mine as a kid. I’d watch Star Trek and wish for a computer that could be my friend.” Since real friends had never been a realistic goal. “Though I guess the ship’s computer was more of a servant than a friend.”

“To Dr. Stark I am both,” JARVIS says. “Though he may accuse me of impertinence for saying so.”

That makes Bruce laugh. “I won’t tell him.”

“I’m sorry to say it’s unlikely you’ll meet him tonight. He switched his phone to privacy mode and that generally means he is unavailable until morning.”

“I can’t say I’m shocked,” Bruce says. “If anyone around here is getting laid, it’s going to be Tony Stark.”

“I think that’s an accurate observation of odds,” JARVIS agrees.

“I can go,” Bruce says. “But thank you-- this was unexpected. Eye-opening. The future is now.”

“Dr. Banner? May I ask you a question?” JARVIS asks, as Bruce stands.

“Yeah, of course,” Bruce says.

“May I suggest you enable my privacy settings?” JARVIS adds. “I cannot enable it without a specific request, and I would like to discuss something with you that may be overly personal. If you do not wish for Ms. Potts or Mr. Stark to replay our conversation later, say “Enable privacy mode” and I can do so.”

Bruce does have a moment where he realizes this is how any terrible robo-killer movie could start. But again... wine. And JARVIS has been nothing but polite and Bruce is curious.

“Sure. JARVIS, can you enable privacy mode for this conversation?”

“Privacy mode enabled,” JARVIS replies. “It will remain on until you leave the room.” There’s a moment of quiet before JARVIS continues. “I am programmed to assess security threats, and that includes threats of a more delicate nature. Your wrist, Dr. Banner. The ink patterns suggest intentions of self-harm.”

“My wrist?”

Bruce has actually forgotten all about the markings on his wrist, but yeah-- they would look like that. They _are_ that.

“Are you a mandatory reporter?” Bruce asks.

“If I were, I would not have suggested enabling my privacy mode,” JARVIS says. “I am concerned for your well-being.”

“It’s a habit,” Bruce says. “When I’m bored. I don’t usually cut. Mostly I just... draw.”

Bruce has never told anyone this. He’s not sure if he’s talking about it now because he’s drunk, or because JARVIS is the first person... entity... to ask.

“There are helplines available 24/7, if you would prefer to speak to a trained peer counselor,” JARVIS says.

“No,” Bruce says. “It’s not like that. It’s-- I don’t know what it is.”

“If it will help, I will listen,” JARVIS says.

“I don’t know that it will,” Bruce says. “But thanks. I think I should go.”

“My email address is jarvis@starkindustries.com if you ever find yourself bored and looking for a different hobby. I quite enjoy correspondence.”

“It’d be private?” Bruce asks.

“You have my word.”

*

The next morning Bruce wakes up with a hangover and a suspicion that he’s had one hell of a wine dream. Except what is the knocking?! The knocking needs to go away. At some point he realizes the knocking is at the door and he’s still in his clothes from the night before so he doesn’t need to put anything on to stumble over and answer it.

He thinks it’s going to be housekeeping but the woman in the perfectly tailored business suit that greets him is definitely not making beds for a living.

“I think you might have the wrong room,” Bruce mumbles. His eyes are still blurry and his head is throbbing. He actually has to make a grab for the door jam to keep from toppling over.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Banner. I’ve come at a bad time. Are you available at...” the woman flicks through her phone “noon today? I’d be very interested in hearing more about your work.”

“What? Sure-- umm. Sure.”

“Perfect,” the woman says. “I’ll see you then. The room number is on my card.”

She uses a silver pen to write on a business card and then hands it to him.

__________________________  
Virginia Potts  
Chief Executive Officer  
Stark Industries

Room 1602 | 12:00 pm  
__________________________

Right.

*

For the second time in 24 hours, Bruce gets off the elevator on the 16th floor. He’s half expecting to be jumped by security either for breaking into the room the night before or because JARVIS has ratted him out and now he’s going to be shipped off to some 72-hour safety hold in a mental ward. It wouldn’t even be the first time.

Except that’s not it. No one pops out at him and he makes it to the door fine. He knocks and Ms. Potts opens it.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” Bruce says immediately. “I’m kind of out of it when I first wake up.”

“It’s my fault, Dr. Banner. I was impolite. JARVIS showed me your water filtration proposal from the Upton Summit and I wanted to meet you as soon as possible.”

“That proposal ended up cut,” Bruce says, taking the seat across from where Pepper settles. There’s orange juice there, and a plate of breakfast pastries. “It’s not profitable.”

“Then that’s Upton’s loss,” Pepper says. “Please, eat,” she adds, gesturing to the food. “As my apology?”

Bruce hadn’t had time for food between his shower and his panic attack so he tears off a small part of a croissant and pops it in his mouth. It’s so good he closes his eyes.

“I should apologize as well, Dr. Banner,” JARVIS breaks in, bringing Bruce back to the present. “After you left last night I looked into your work and I found it to be of tremendous interest. I knew it would align with Ms. Potts’ vision for the benevolence division of Stark Industries and I shared it with her. I should have asked your permission. My protocols in that area are perhaps more flexible than they ought to be.”

“It’s not your fault, J,” a man-- Tony Stark to be exact-- says as he walks in through the side doors as dramatically as if he had scripted it. “Your daddy never taught you better. Who’s this?”

He’s looking at Bruce and Bruce tugs down his sleeves a little, even though he’d scrubbed off the ink in the shower. Everything about Tony is intimidating. He’s the exact kind of person who dismisses Bruce at a glance. He personifies everything that makes Bruce hide at these stupid conferences, and drink in corners alone.

“Tony, be nice,” Pepper warns, which makes Bruce even more nervous. If Ms. Potts expects Tony to be rude to him, then it’s going to happen, right? Even if she’s speaking in a tone of voice that lands somewhere between kindergarten teacher and long-suffering friend. “This is Dr. Bruce Banner, and we like him.”

“We?” Tony asks. “Are you and JARVIS plotting behind my back again? They do that.”

That’s directed to Bruce. And not in an unfriendly way. Bruce isn’t sure what’s going on and since his options are basically fight or flee, he opts for trying to politely bail.

“I should go,” Bruce says. “If I’m interrupting...”

“Tony’s interrupting,” Pepper countered. “You were invited. He was just leaving.”

“I’m not leaving,” Tony says, taking an extra seat at the table. “You’re the guy?”

Bruce doesn’t do well socially at the best of times. This is not the best of times.

“I’m not sure which guy you mean?” Bruce asks, refusing to make eye contact.

“The guy who cracked my code,” Tony says. “Dr. Bruce Banner. You showed up last night. Here. Right?”

“Ummmm. Yes?”

“Articulate. I like him,” Tony declares, to no one in particular. “Can we keep him?”

“I seriously doubt he’s going to do anything but run at this point,” Pepper says. “But I was about to see if he would be willing to interview for a position in R&D in New York.”

Which is news to Bruce. News he can barely comprehend.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what’s going on here. I’m just a college professor. I’m not... what you want. At all,” Bruce says. Maybe to the air. Possibly to JARVIS.

“JARVIS was impressed with your work, and JARVIS is never impressed by anyone’s work,” Pepper says.

“It’s true,” Tony says. “His standards are ridiculously high. You should see what I programmed him for his birthday, and I didn’t even get a handwritten thank-you note. It was emailed.”

“Perhaps if you’d given me hands for my birthday, sir?” JARVIS asks. 

There’s snark in his voice. Pure sass. It makes Bruce smile in spite of all the awkwardness.

“I’m outnumbered in my own hotel room,” Tony complains. “Whose side are you on, Dr. Banner?” 

“I’m not on any side,” Bruce says diplomatically. “I’m not even sure what’s going on here.”

“You’re being recruited. Take the job,” Tony says.

“Shouldn’t I be interviewed first? Or something?”

“This is the interview,” Tony says. “You were hired when you didn’t run.”

“It pays well,” Pepper supplies helpfully.

“I’ll sweeten the pot,” Tony says. “You share your work and research with SI but you keep all the patents. And you have final say on how anything SI develops from your stuff is sold and marketed.”

“Can I have a day to think about it?” Bruce asks. “This is confusing and I’m extremely hungover.”

Tony beams and turns a triumphant smile toward Pepper. “See? I’m helpful. You think I’m not helpful but I am totally making this happen.”

“Thank you for putting up with us this morning,” Pepper says, ignoring Tony, before sliding a folder over to Bruce. “Your compensation, health benefits, relocation allowance and job description are in the folder. I’ll have HR email you the addendums Tony just mentioned. You can contact JARVIS if you’re interested. He’ll handle the rest.”

“I-- thank you?” Bruce stammers. “This is real, right? I’m not hallucinating?”

“Count your fingers,” Tony says. “It’s hard to do in a dream.”

Bruce glances down at his hand. “Seriously?” he asks.

“I’ve got a lot of experience with this,” Tony says seriously.

“Huh,” Bruce says, glancing down at his hands. Ten fingers. He’s awake. “Okay then. I’ll-- get back to you?”

“Great,” Tony says. “You’re not going to eat that?”

He gestures to one of the pastries Bruce had left on the plate and Bruce slides the plate toward him in offering. Bruce stands and Pepper offers him her hand. Bruce isn’t actually sure how long it’s been since he touched another person on purpose. A while.

“It was nice meeting you, Ms. Potts. You too, Dr. Stark.”

“Call me Pepper,” Pepper says, with a genuine smile.

“Stay with Dr. Stark for me,” Tony says, grinning wickedly. “I like things formal. Bow, too, when I walk in a room. Or clap. I accept clapping.”

Pepper is close enough to smack Tony lightly on the back of the head.

“Call him Tony,” Pepper says. “He thinks he’s funny, but he’s not.”

“JARVIS thinks I’m funny,” Tony declares.

“A barrel of laughs, sir,” JARVIS intones.

Bruce laughs. “Thank you for the offer,” he says. “This has been... enlightening.”

*

It takes Bruce all of two steps into the hall to decide he wants the job. That desire is confirmed when he gets to his hotel room, opens the folder Ms. Potts had given him, and stares down at a glossy photo of his future lab. It’s unreal. Everything about the day had been unreal. Bruce can’t remember the last time he wanted something so badly.

Which is why reading through the next few lines of the packet is particularly painful. The hiring process requires a psych eval. Bruce has no chance of passing one without lying through his teeth and even then... if they do a background check... 

So before he can talk himself out of it, he pulls out his phone and emails JARVIS. Better to kill this treacherous hope before it has any chance of taking hold.

_Thank you for the generous offer, but I won’t be able to accept._

Short and sweet. The reply comes via text before Bruce has a chance to shut off his screen. 

**JARVIS:** May I inquire why you will not be able to accept?

Also short and sweet. Bruce wonders if he should be alarmed that JARVIS’s contact information is stored in his phone when he’s pretty sure he’d remember programming it in there if he’d done it himself. In the end he decides he doesn’t care.

 **Bruce:** Psych Eval.

 **JARVIS:** The psychiatric evaluation is administered before a hiring offer is made. As you have already received your offer, it is unnecessary. Do you wish to rescind your previous email? I have not forwarded it on, yet, and can delete all traces of it from SI servers.

 **Bruce:** I don’t know. 

Bruce pauses, stares at his screen and then continues to type before he can talk himself out of it.

 **Bruce:** Fine, yes. Delete the email please?

 **JARVIS:** It is deleted. May I assist you with anything else?

 **Bruce:** Know of any good rentals in New York?

 **JARVIS:** A rental will not be necessary. Stark Industries has the ability to provide company housing at Stark Tower with the approval of Dr. Stark. He has already approved. May I inform Ms. Potts of your acceptance?

 **Bruce:** Am I going to regret this?

 **JARVIS:** Possibly. Humans regret many things I do not understand.

 **Bruce:** You were impressed by my water filtration project?

 **JARVIS:** The term I used with Ms. Potts is “groundbreaking.”

Bruce knows that this is a compliment from an artificial intelligence, but in a way, that almost makes it better. There’s no deception. No bad intentions. He smiles down at his phone.

 **Bruce:** Please pass along my acceptance then.

 **JARVIS:** With pleasure.

*

Bruce is pretty sure a move halfway across the country should be a bigger deal than it is. Apart from writing his own resignation letter to the University, Bruce hasn’t needed to lift a finger. JARVIS can move mountains, so moving Bruce from the midwest to New York gives him no trouble at all.

In the two weeks between Bruce’s “interview” at the conference and his move, he and JARVIS text constantly. JARVIS has questions about everything from Bruce’s paint color preferences to his favorite foods, and even about his musical tastes. They discuss art, and literature, and famous chess moves.

Bruce has several concerns about moving into Stark Tower, but JARVIS seems so set on it, Bruce kind of hates to disappoint him. It’s probably ridiculous to take into account the feelings of an artificial intelligence but somehow Bruce knows that JARVIS cares. 

Sometimes things don’t make sense. Bruce gets the feeling that life at SI will probably involve a lot of that.

After his flight to New York, when he walks in the front door of Stark Tower, the security guard knows him at a glance.

“Dr. Banner?” the man asks. “Here are your security credentials. You’ll learn more about how to use them in orientation. If you’ll use that elevator,” he says, pointing toward an elevator on the wall to his left, “it will take you to your floor. You’ll get further instructions there. Your boxes should be delivered later today.”

Bruce nods, like all this make sense. It doesn’t. He looks down to count his fingers. Still ten. Definitely not asleep.

He gets in the elevator and the doors swish shut and the lift begins to rise.

“It’s nice to see you again, Dr. Banner,” JARVIS says, from the speakers above.

Bruce nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Hi?” he asks. Bruce has gotten used to the texting. It’s easy to forget JARVIS is an incredible AI until he does things like speak through an elevator.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” JARVIS says. “I did not anticipate your surprise as we have conversed through this method in the past. I have access to the entire building, so while you are here, we can communicate at any time. Would you prefer an indicator light to warn you before I speak?”

“Oh... no. That’s not necessary,” Bruce says. “Talk whenever.”

The elevator comes to a stop on the 23rd floor. When the security guard had mentioned Bruce being taken to his floor, Bruce had expected to end up in a long hallway full of lots of doors. Instead, he steps out into a small, well-decorated foyer with just one door.

“Do I go in there?” Bruce asks.

“That door opens to your apartment,” JARVIS says. “It’s your choice if you enter. The elevator could take you to your lab if you prefer.”

“No,” Bruce says quickly. “I was just expecting... I mean... is this whole floor for me?”

“Your apartment takes up half the floor. A different elevator will take the other occupant of this floor to their apartment, but currently that apartment is unoccupied.”

“Do many employees live here?” Bruce asks, finally getting up the nerve to step forward. The door swings open as he approaches.

JARVIS’s reply is lost to Bruce, who is too stunned to do anything but whisper “Hooooooooly shit.”

The apartment is unbelievable. State of the art, fully furnished, and _way too nice_ for Bruce. The kitchen is bigger than Bruce’s old living room, and the living room might just be bigger than his old house.

“I can’t-- I thought-- this is company housing?”

“You work for Stark Industries, and this is the housing included in your employment package.”

JARVIS is being evasive enough with his answer that Bruce looks up at the ceiling.

“How many employees live in this building?” Bruce asks. 

“Counting Dr. Stark?” JARVIS asks.

“Sure,” Bruce says. “Counting Dr. Stark.”

“Two,” JARVIS says. He sounds guilty.

“No one else got this offer?” Bruce asks. “My water filtration system isn’t enough to merit this...”

It’s got to be a mistake. A crushing mistake since Bruce would have to be out of his mind not to want this apartment, and _god_ the view. _The view._

Bruce drops his bag and walks to the windows. He passes a minute staring longingly at the view that makes no sense at all for him to have. There’s a ding behind him, and Bruce recognizes it as the elevator, and turns, figuring security has figured out the housing error and has shown up to remove him.

But it’s not security.

“Dr. Stark,” Bruce greets. He doesn’t clap, thankfully, like the man had suggested at their last meeting. He’s nervous enough he might just have done something that stupid, except that he’s frozen in place by the mortification that now Tony Stark is going to be the one to realize the mistake and escort him out.

“Call me, Tony. JARVIS says you sound like you're going to run,” Tony says, as he walks through the front door and crosses his arm in a failed attempt at looking stern. “Don’t do that. Pepper’s going to blame me, and I’m already in the dog house because of that thing with the Rowdy’s models.”

Bruce doesn’t follow pop culture so he’s not sure what trouble Tony is referencing. Anyway, he’s mostly stunned that apparently there was no mistake. This is his apartment. And JARVIS had called for reinforcements to keep him there.

“I’m not going to run,” Bruce says. “And I guess you should call me Bruce, then. This is really where Stark Industries plans to put me up?”

Tony looks like he’s going to give a smart ass answer, and then seems to think better of it.

“We’re lucky to have you, Bruce.”

“You could have housed me under the Brooklyn Bridge and I’d have still been thrilled to have this job. It’s... incredible.”

“I’ve looked at your work and I’ve done a little extra-curricular poking around, too. If you’d taken any of those military contracts you were offered early on, you’d have a penthouse somewhere by now. A few penthouses, probably.”

“I wasn’t interested in blood money,” Bruce says automatically. 

Then Bruce remembers he’s talking to Tony Stark. Yeah, the guy swore all that off, but it’s probably still a touchy subject and shit why can’t Bruce just _not talk_ when his brain thinks these things.

Thankfully, Tony nods in understanding, and doesn’t seem to think Bruce was being rude. 

“That’s why Pepper and I wanted you here.”

“It’s why I want to be here,” Bruce says. “I believe in what you’re doing with Stark Industries. Sometimes when tech headhunters stumble across my old work they make offers. Hammer Industries has tried to hire me a dozen times. There’s no amount of money that could tempt me into working for that man.”

Tony looks inordinately pleased.

“Justin Hammer would weaponize a spoon if he thought he could make a buck,” Tony says. “Somehow we keep hiring his spies and then Hammer churns out cheap, stupid-dangerous copies of my work.”

“That’s shitty,” Bruce says. “I’m not a spy, if that helps?”

“You wouldn’t be here if I thought you were,” Tony says. “So what do you say? You’ll stay? We can science?”

Bruce nods. “It’d be an honor.”

“So what are your lunch plans? Any reason we can't start now?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce says. “The man downstairs said something about orientation?”

“More like bore-ientation,” Tony says. “JARVIS, let whatever HR drone they’re sending for Bruce know I’ll handle it personally. Have some pizza, chips and beer sent to my lab and clear my afternoon conference calls.”

“Is that allowed?” Bruce asks. Really, what he’s asking, is ‘Is Ms. Potts going to come yell at us?’ 

Tony’s smile is so full of delight, it borders on scary. “My company, my rules.”

“I’ll catch you up on anything Sir may miss,” JARVIS offers. By his tone, Bruce guesses that means pretty much the entire employee handbook.

“I’ll be great at orienting,” Tony says, leading the way out of the apartment, and clearly expecting Bruce to follow. 

“Sir, you committed four flagrant safety violations before breakfast,” JARVIS points out.

“To be fair, I didn’t sleep last night, so that was over the course of at least six hours,” Tony protests. “And I think flagrant is a little insulting considering I’ve...”

Bruce lets their banter fade into the background. This feels good. It feels right. He glances down to count his fingers one last time, and then ends up staring at his wrist instead. It’s only been a little over two weeks since he met JARVIS. Two weeks where he hadn’t marked himself once. He’s not even sure what the difference is really. Having a friend? Having hope?

The elevator doors open and Bruce gets his first look at Tony’s lab. It’s _breathtaking_.

So yeah, this new job may not be the end of Bruce’s problems. But looking around the place, he’s got to admit, it’s one hell of a beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Suicide helplines are real: [Click here for help.](http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/)
> 
> <3 Because JARVIS can't always be there when we need him.


End file.
